leaned back against the truck, stretching his arms across the hood as if he were one broad tendon. 'I think I'll just relax here and enjoy the view.'
'Listen to me now,' said John Lourdes. 'I'm not some empty street you're going to walk down and be done with. There is you, there is me, and there is that truck. And that's all. There's no past, there's no future. There is only now. Do you understand?' He pointed his gun at the truck. 'That is our world. See the writing there on the sideAMERICAN PARTHENON-that's our world. Nothing else. You ... me ... and this truck. And we're going to drive through to the end .. . together. Wherever that end is. Till all that's left are our bones and a chassis, if need be.' He was near out of breath and he could feel his whole body in every branched vein running with rage.
He fought to calm himself. 'And when we're done. When I see we're done, then you'll have your immunity. Now . . .' He started toward the back of the truck. 'Help get Mr. McManus off the truck and to somewhere more ... befitting his present station.'
'What is this really about, Mr. Lourdes?'
The son stopped. His head and shoulders tightened down. He turned.
'Maybe it's that black spot you're carrying around. Or maybe you're desperate to prove what you're not. The ladder is always taller for the small man.'
'The teachings of a common assassin.'
'I've survived this long because there's legitimacy to me.' Rawbone walked to the cab for his bindle. 'And what this is really about ... is the practical application of strategy. As seen through the eyes of one John Lourdes.'
Rawbone slung the bindle over one shoulder. He took to walking away. The son saw him and called out, 'You think you're leaving but you're not.'
The father kept on.
'What about your family?'
Rawbone stopped. His face drained of expression. The son had heard himself say the words but there was no thought to them, no preparation, nor plan. They came out as squalls of pure anger, fully formed. Ready, willing and able to draw blood and serve a purpose at the same time.
'You do have a family, don't you?'
Rawbone flicked away his cigarette.
'In El Paso?'
The father did not move. He only swung the bindle up on his shoulder as if he were getting ready to start away.
'Could it be those questions you were asking of me at the church about the barrio, and did I know families there-'
'I have no idea where you're going,' said Rawbone. 'But I'll send you my regrets once you get there.'
John Lourdes approached, his weapon in one hand, the father's in the other. Both were barreled to the ground.
'What if I told you someone at BOI knows of your family. I might even say justice Knox has spoken to a member of your family. Would it mean anything to you?'
The son could see something incubating in the eyes and the jawline of the man before him. I have put the knife to him, thought the son. I have found a place that bleeds. Thank God.
'Take a look out there,' said John Lourdes.
He meant the ravine so lined with trash along that runnelled pathway that ran with water when the season warranted.
'That's your life.' He slapped Rawbone on the back. 'And you know what else? When it's your time, McManus will be out here waiting on you. With his wooden arm and marijuana.' He even pretended he was banging away one-armed on the ivory keys with those oddly splayed fingers.
Rawbone stood in hard silence watching the display. Then he said, 'Mr. Lourdes, I believe I'm going to kill you.'
'You mean you're not sure.'
John Lourdes took Rawbone's weapon and stuffed it into the front of his trousers. 'Now,' he said. 'You've at least got something between your pockets.' He started toward the truck. 'I'm going to find Mr. McManus a good spot to watch the sunset.'
The father did nothing. He'd been caught off guard and he now evaluated his situation thoughtfully. He looked up that ravine. From Juarez came a carreta pulled by a mule. An old man sat in the box seat.
